


Agnosia

by WhisperingMirrorHallway



Category: Kingdom Hearts (Video Games)
Genre: Abduction, Constructed Reality, Dubious Consent, Emotionally Repressed, F/M, Fantasy, Mind Manipulation, Mind Palace, Obsession, Obsessive Behavior, Other, POV Female Character, POV Second Person, Possessive Behavior, Pre-Kingdom Hearts 358/2 Days, Pre-Kingdom Hearts Chain of Memories, Reader-Insert, Reality Bending, Yandere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:48:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24878725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhisperingMirrorHallway/pseuds/WhisperingMirrorHallway
Relationships: Zexion (Kingdom Hearts)/Reader
Kudos: 7





	Agnosia

Stepping out of the entranceway, you treaded the terrace of the outer court and descended down the ivy-clad staircase, passing through arbours of papavers and pansies. Lances of light pierced through the forest archway, casting upon the wisps of morning mist that rose forth. The ghost-lit footpath was reminiscent of how you had come to this reified imaginarium.

\---

  
_How the stillness inveigled and invited the unwary to seek recess; what you had wanted most when you wandered through the woods. You dandered directionless, disassociating yourself from the familiar asperity of your environment, and rather be immersed in the details of the landscape’s imagery often deemed as insignificant. The unknown had always pulled you. And when a forest portal to a darkened path caught your attention, you took it, uncaring as to where it brought you to. How the shivelights led you further astray, and as a fool were to follow the flitting ignis fatuus, you followed the shadows of gold and continued further, letting the intertwining clusters guide you. There was a subtle change in the atmosphere paired with a faint, musty but sweet fragrance as you stepped from the forest border; the surrounding area looked significantly different than what you were familiar with, nor did you know how much time had passed. You traced your tracks back, only to find that the path was closed behind you._

_With no other option but to go onward, you came at length to a rear courtyard. You took note of the grounds as you passed through the vacant arcades, and entered an open gallery that led to a beautiful hall, you marvelled its architectural details. At the end awaited a white, carved, wooden, panelled door, your hand landed on the ornate lever and the door pulled open, in an instant spectral figures swirled in surreal grace, a masquerade of great éclat presented before you. Watching the audience, your worries began to wane and you wished to join their dance, but you dared not to intrude a party where you were not invited. You remained by the doorway and closed the door to draw no attention. You suspired sadly as your eyes shut, submerging yourself in a calming thought, the sound softened on the other side, the ambience seeming to synchronise with the current flow of your imagination. Opening it once more you saw an exact replica of your imagined scene. You were filled with awe how the very thoughts and wishes you were brimmed with were realised in such astonishing virtuosity._

  
_“It is all yours; you are now mistress of this dominion. Every thread of thought you wish to be woven, I shall spin for you, on condition that you promise me never to leave me.”_

  
_A proposal splendidly crafted as by the scribes of old. A warning rang that it was too good to be true; you’d have abided by your rationality and refused, had the stresses of life not taken their toll on you. You willed to abscond from the pandemonium of your milieu and retreat into the incongruous imagery of the mind where none of the burden existed. At length you gave your word faithfully. Thus, you became a denizen where every apartment brought you to your desired domain of your design; only the voice of your enigmatic suitor as your company until that unexpected day._

  
_You had been reposing in a dome bergère, reading a book on your favourite subject, which had been set up for you as a gift. The noon light through the square diamonded panes cast the veneered hardwood of the private library in a rich colour._   
_“Are you being looked after?”_

_  
Your concentration broke, a smile creased your lips. “Generously, as always. Thank you.” Your smile wilted on your lips as you breathed out a soft sigh. “I know your name, you voice, yet I cannot put a face on it. I often feel my want for company is that strong that you are only a byproduct of it.”_

  
_“I assure you that is not the case. For if I were–none of this could have come to be.“ You regarded the coffered ceiling before you returned to your book. “What is it you see when you hear my voice?”_   
_A page was absently flipped. “Voices can be very deceiving; the fabricated physical image can easily be undone by reality.”_

_“But the accuracy of a hypothesis can only be tested if shared,” there was hint of amusement in his voice._

_You set the book down, index finger traced over the gilded motif on the cover, brow creased in concentration, “soft hands with long, well trained fingers, well dressed but sober … owl-eyed!”_

_“Owl-eyed?”_

  
_“Yes, as in bright-eyed; a keen perceptiveness to them.” A moment of silence passed, a surge set in the stomach, you looked from the winged sides. “Did I offend?” A gloved hand placed faintly on your hand that only the palm touched the back, you stared into half-hidden, glaucous-coloured eyes. “No.”_

\---

  
But as days passed, the differentiation between the abstract and the concrete became more difficult to discern. You had been naïve in your wish. Now you willed it all could revert to reality. The foliage receded to a fog-laden clearing where in the centre was a fountain, jets of water purled into the basin. You perched on its marmoreal edge, droplets spraying exposed skin, your hand swirled the water’s surface, casting silver ripples. You drew your hand out of the basin, beads dribbled down, distorting the reflection. The fine line had faded; the artifice and reality were too closely interwoven. You rose. You had to preserve the fragments of your flaking sanity before it was in a state of perdition. You called out to the cloaked schemer whilst trying to contain the consternation in your voice. A disembodied voice responded in imperturbable quiet dignity.

  
“I am here, my darling. What is it?”

  
The mist became denser as the fountain water ceased to run. You had to hold your composure, “Zexion, I must speak to you, I can no longer live in this imaginarium. It’s becoming too much.”

  
“I fail to see why you are in such distress. Have I not given shape to every dream of yours?”

  
You scoured for the source through the mist. “You have, and I am most grateful,” you spoke in deference for his statement had a modicum of truth. You licked your lips as you pondered how to properly profess. “Your abilities are dazzling, but I wish to be with what is real.”  
Rather than be confined in the gilded cage of your projected imagination; to perceive the physical and continuity.

  
There came the soft thud of a thick book closing; through the dense folds he came like an apparition as the mass of the bank began to defog. Flora withered away, spreading out into plates or retreating into shadows, their lustre fading to a dull metallic sheen; revealing a room of austere stereometric shapes. A stark contrast to the natural forms and structures shapen from your dreamscapes. You had at last been brought back to the waking world.

  
“You seemed to bear up well, and for long it was a source of happiness to you, exploring the dimensions I crafted for you. We can work to improve your tolerance level rather than retract it.”

  
A heaviness set in as you listened to his ratiocinative reasoning, his expression was as ever equanimous, but the concentrated contemplation in his eyes beheld you as though he had reached a passage he had not managed to translate yet.

  
“Perhaps I ought to demonstrate it to you,” Zexion came nearer, the lexicon flipped open with an almost imperceptible wave of the hand, images flashed in front of you.

  
“No, please, don’t!” you said short in a shrill shriek. Zexion ceased and closed the lexicon, dematerialising the book in an instant, disconcerted by the extreme display of emotion.

  
“Please,” you breathed in a timorous whisper, “make it stop.” You softly clasped his hands. “I’ll offer what you want most in return for my request.” his statuesque figure stiffened as the touch sent a spark through. It was all a novel experience he both wanted and needed to inquire into, yet it contradicted the inherent state of his being; it was a conundrum that could only be comprehended through you. In truth, your preternatural ingenuity and inquisitiveness had inthralled his inmost soul. Like an object he had studied every aspect of you. A gloved hand rose and held you by the chin, as a curator were to touch the ivory cover of an illuminated manuscript, and angled your face towards him. You felt the possessive pull of his eyes on you as you maintained eye contact; a premonition weighed upon you. “Very well.”


End file.
